


Cutting Ties

by Finian



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Choking, Force Choking, M/M, i wrote this to cope with a break up and it got out of hand, im sorry lmao, straight up murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9178486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finian/pseuds/Finian
Summary: Feral. Angry. Just like his father.Ben has had a little too much to deal with.





	

Time in space is measured by passing planets and stars, by arbitrary numbers floating blue above the holopad, and the body’s urge to sleep. Punctuated by the steady beat of troops marching by down the hall across from his room. There was only one window there on the Finalizer- tonight, it seemed, they were cruising past a lovely yellow-green planet, and it cast the whole room with a sickly hue. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see that the blast door was hanging open. There was a shock of (what happens when red is covered in green) at just-about head level, and then the door hissed as it slid shut.

 

He should know better than to think he can just sneak in, kick his shoes off, and curl up to sleep without so much as a hello. There was a moment where he was so tempted to stand, to ask him what the living hell he was doing out so pfassking late- but he didn’t. He kept his back against the headboard of that tiny Empire-issued cot, hidden in the shadows until the sliver of light from the window changed- a passing star- lit his lap. His fingers clenched in the sheet, nails digging into his palms through the thin fabric.

 

“You’re up late. You should be resting.” The voice came from the other side of the bed, he wasn’t deigning to turn his head and look at him. “Ren, did you hear me? Sleep. What, loth-cat got your tongue?” That  _ tone-  _ he could feel his apathy rolling off of him in waves, ginger-red waves, crashing against those pretty white sheets.

 

“Shut up.” That came out so much more like a child snapping at their sibling than he had intended it to. The snarl that accompanied it sent dull throbs through his face, the effort used to curl his lips up cracking little fissures in his still-healing wound. “I don’t want you here.”

 

“Well that’s a shame, then, isn’t it- because last time I checked, I was assigned to monitor your recovery.” He could feel the cot dip as Hux slipped into it, pressed up against his side. “Ren.” His voice was so much softer now, right beside his ear. “Ren, please. Sleep. You’re upset- I understand that.”

 

“Do you? What do you know. Your kriffing planet blows up, you act as if you just lost your-”

 

“My what.” There was a humble little huff from his left, almost amused. “My father? No, I suppose that can’t be it. That was you. Do watch your language, you’re beginning to sound like that flyboy.” Everything moved so quickly- the sheets billowing up around them like water, the flash of red and the gentle sizzle as the blade of his lightsaber dug through the headboard, inches above Hux’s hair- and then there was silence. The light vibrated along with the cracked beam, casting flickering shadows across both of their faces. He knew what he looked like.

 

Feral. Angry. Just like his father.

 

“Congratulations, Ren, we’ll have to replace this cot as well.” Hux was speaking again as soon as his blade withdrew, handle dropping to the sheets. In the movement, he’d ended up across Hux’s hips, one leg braced against the ground. The sheets fell across Hux’s legs- he was still in his uniform. He’d had no intention of sleeping in that cot.

 

“Who were you going to run off to, once I was asleep?” He leaned forwards- that fear that flickered across Hux’s face as he braced his hand next to the still-glowing hole in the metal was nearly intoxicating on it’s own. “Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t realize. Who is it? One of your cadets?” He’s more than aware that he’s calling his own bluff. Hux was, more than likely, just going to return to his own quarters.

 

“I certainly wasn’t going to be anywhere near this hellhole.” Hux nearly spat at his face, trying to pull away from him. He couldn’t feel his face reacting- couldn’t feel much of his face at all, really, thanks to the work put in it during his stay in the medbay- just the twinge of pain left in his wound as he moved, but it was evidently something telltale by the way Hux’s face went soft. “Come with me. My bed is so much more comfortable than this.”

 

He wasn’t lying, that was certain. So many late nights spent sitting up in that bed, talking- arguing- coaxing each other to get more than a few hours of sleep. He shook himself from the bittersweet memory, pulling back to settle down on his own side of the cramped cot. “The door is monitored. I don’t want to be hauled back to the medbay for attempting to leave again.” It was a wonder they’d let him have his own room- even if it was just across the hall from the examination room, and he’d only gotten it by threatening to have every last one of them launched out the airlock if he had to spend one more night in that infernal beeping hell.

 

“They wouldn’t. Not if you were with me.” He can feel Hux moving about, his hand on his cheek, fingers just a bit too close to the tender skin of his forehead. He reached out, grabbing at his wrist, holding his hand in place. “Ren-”

 

“Don’t speak to me like you’re my friend, General Hux. You made it very clear how you felt about me in the medbay.” He could feel Hux’s pulse pick up through the leather wrists of his gloves, and if he bothered to look, he was sure his face was as red as Mustafar. “You think to make a pfassking toy of me- of  _ me? _ I’m not some- some  _ child’s  _ plaything.” He squeezed his wrist- hard- before tossing it down again. “Leave me.”

 

“You don’t understand- I was  _ furious _ \- the entire base, gone-” Hux began, slipping out of the bed and pacing in a short track. He used to think that was endearing, watching him trace patterns while he thought. Now every soft thud of his feet made him angry. “And you- laying there, so- so pathetic! You let her beat you!”

 

His words hung in the air for a moment, before he cleared his throat. Sniveling little imp.

 

“I was wrong, of course-” He hardly had a moment to backtrack before Kylo Ren was in front of him, pale and freckled, leaning him closer to the washbasin against the wall. “Ren, sit down. I just said that I was wrong.”

“Come lay down with me.” He could feel how hoarse his voice was, vibrating in his throat. He swallowed, then tried again. “Please, come lay down with me. I’m sorry.”

 

“Did I just get an apology out of  _ the _ Kylo Ren?” Again with that tone, so self-assured and pretentious. He swallowed the scowl that threatened to bubble up, and turned to make his way to the bed again. “Oh, don’t get so sour with me, Ben.” Hux stepped up behind him, reaching his arms around his waist, pressing his nose up against the nape of his neck. Ren turned in his arms, bare chest pressed up against the stiff fabric of his uniform.

 

“Sour with you? I’m not sour with you.” He smiled, bumping their noses together. It only took a well-placed swipe of his leg to land the both of them on the cot, a facsimile of their earlier positioning. “In fact, Hux, I hardly care for you in any way at all, these days. I don’t know what you aim to accomplish, but you’ve failed. You’ve failed- let’s see- you’ve failed Starkiller. And I’m sure, now that we’re on the topic,  _ your _ father would be so disappointed in you for that. Mine loved me, even as I-” He faltered, swallowed hard, and forced his thoughts back to the face in front of him. “Yours, Armitage, I doubt is as forgiving. You’ve failed that- gaining forgiveness- from me, too.”

 

Hux was already red under him, diaphragm clenched in a vice, and Ben could feel his teeth throbbing with how hard he’d clenched his jaw. Hux made no sound- of course not. He was used to this, breathless in bed, that cold steel grip on his lungs. Just as his eyes were about to slip shut, just as that panic was about to set in, he released him. Hux sputtered and coughed, trying to sit up- Ben set a warm hand on his shoulder, keeping him there.

 

His other hand trailed up along his uniform, fingertips dancing over snaps and ridges, tracing up past the collar to wrap around his slender throat, resting there. He pulled his eyes away from his own hand on that throat, glancing up towards his eyes. They were on him, pleading- his other hand joined the first, pressing down, experimentally.

 

He could feel his hyoid under his palm as he pressed, holding his fingers far enough apart to see the skin underneath them.

 

“Ben-”

 

And like that, he pressed down hard enough to feel that little bone snap under his skin- were those his own hot tears on his cheeks, running down to mingle with the blood that had dripped from that disgusting scab on his face. He shook him- he was so frail and broken, like a tiny bird in his hands, scrabbling at the sheets. He was drooling, rasping what little breath he could- so Ben pressed harder, leaning his whole weight onto his throat.

 

He could feel him slipping away, could feel the way his throat was crushed under his hands. It was like nothing he’d ever felt- pure control. Life under his bare hands. That  _ traitor. _ He  _ trusted  _ him.

 

He kept leaning on Hux long after his body stopped kicking and moving, long after the blood from his nose dried against the sheets into ugly brown stains, long after his holopad had set itself to sleep mode and killed the spinning blue numbers. He kept leaning on him as his eyes wandered away from those lovely spots of blue high on Hux’s dead cheeks and towards the window. That planet they’d been passing was further in the distance, and now he could see that it wasn’t quite green at all. Large land masses circled in oceans-

 

He stood, leaving the corpse where it was, circling the bed towards the window. There it was- there was no mistaking it. He’d been there so many times as a young boy, always with his face up against the glass of his father’s ship, so excited to see it. 

 

Corellia.

 

He sat back against the bed, stroking his hands through familiar red hair, before standing- since when were his legs so unsteady?- and making his way over towards the blast doors. His own bed was much more comfortable, anyways. He’d shared a bed with a corpse for too long.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this, I actually love Kylux a lot. Long story short, I needed to sort through some feelings, and this was the end result. I'm sure my computer history makes me look like a murderer now.
> 
> Also this is completely unedited. If you notice mistakes please message me about 'em!


End file.
